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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24986188">The Beard Competition</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/essexmermaid/pseuds/essexmermaid'>essexmermaid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Endeavour (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Growing beards, beardy nonsense, competitive boys, life during lockdown, video calls with the guvernor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:29:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,626</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24986188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/essexmermaid/pseuds/essexmermaid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff"><p>During the Corona virus lockdown of 2020, Morse and Strange compete to grow the best beard.</p></div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Endeavour Morse &amp; Fred Thursday</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Beard Competition</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You there, matey?” asks Jim Strange as he opens the video call.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mmmm,” Morse acknowledges, impatient at having had to wait several minutes for the call to begin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No sign of Inspector Thursday yet?” asks Jim.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nah,” retorts Morse. “He’s not used this video call technology. Might take a while to get himself sorted out,” he adds condescendingly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He’s been fine with the telephone conference calls so far,” says Jim defensively. “Been on time, always on the ball these last ten weeks of lockdown. If he can’t manage video then we could always go back to phoning in the daily updates.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morse shrugs. They wait for Detective Chief Inspector Fred Thursday to join their video conference. These daily briefings have kept the detectives in touch with one another and on top of the current crime cases being handled by Cowley police station. Truth is that with the public keeping indoors during lockdown, crime rates have fallen considerably and the Cowley team are dealing with their case load quite comfortably.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Today is the first time they’ve switched from telephone conference to video calling. It’s a welcome relief to Jim to actually be able to see his colleagues rather than just hear their disembodied voices down the line.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The ‘tache is coming on,” adds Jim who hasn’t seen Morse either in the flesh or online for many weeks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mmmm,” agrees Morse stroking his ginger moustache thoughtfully.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At first it was just a case of being too lazy to shave every day during lockdown. Since he lived by himself Morse became decidedly slovenly working from home. He tended to stay in bed until the last possible moment before leaping out in a rush to join the early morning departmental phone calls still wearing his vest and pyjamas. Before they decided to move to video calls, no-one could see that his hair stood on end and he hadn’t even rubbed a wet flannel across his face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The moustache had thrived.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morse eventually shaved off most of his beard as it itched and irritated him. Today he glowed with a golden stubble which he hadn’t bothered shaving for two days. Switching these blasted calls to video meant that he had had to make an effort to run a comb through his unruly curls and wash the sleep out of his eyes just minutes before the call had started. And if he was still wearing his pyjama trousers then the others were none the wiser as all they could see of him was his upper half clad in a shirt that hadn’t seen an iron in some time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Beard’s not bad,” Morse acknowledged reluctantly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ha! Do you like it?” asked Jim proudly scuffing the back of his fist through his full beard. Although it wasn’t very long, he’d trimmed it to keep it neat and it was thick and full. Being the first time he’d grown a beard he was rather pleased with himself. He was toying with the idea of keeping this look once lockdown was over.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Reckon I’ve got you beat, matey. I told you I could grow a better beard than you during lockdown.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Where’s the Old Man got to?” said Morse, wanting to change the subject. He scowled at his watch, making a point that DCI Thursday was now a whole two minutes late.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As if he’d conjured up the Inspector with those words, Thursday’s voice boomed out making them both jump.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m here!” snapped Thursday. “And less of the ‘old’ thank you. Let’s get started shall we?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, Sir, Sorry, Sir, didn’t know you’d joined,” squeaked Morse in surprise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your camera’s not on, Sir,” pointed out Jim hesitantly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, right,” said Thursday. “How do I switch it on, then?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morse and Jim exchanged mutual eye rolls, forgetting that although they could not see him, Thursday might be able to see them on his video screen.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tap the little video camera icon in the top right of your screen, Sir,” explained Jim patiently.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was a bit of scuffling from Thursday’s end whilst his Sergeants waited for him to master the new technology.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bugger this for a game of soldiers!” he could be heard muttering under his breath.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Thursday  evidently had not found how to switch on his video camera but had forgotten that they could still hear him loud and clear.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Win!” he called out, “Win! This bloody thing’s playing up again.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jim and Morse frantically turned down their volume settings to avoid any more of their governor’s yells from piercing their eardrums.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They kept silent, grimacing at one another in solidarity.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mrs. Thursday’s sweet tempered voice could be heard in the background.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What is it, love?” she was asking her husband.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Can’t get the bloody camera to work,” huffed Thursday impatiently.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Give it here,” she said, “It’s just how Joan showed you, remember, tap that little thing in the corner, and….”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mrs. Thursday’s smiling face sprang into view. She was sitting in front of the screen with her husband’s hand on her shoulder though the rest of him was out of shot.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, hello lads!” she grinned. “You’re both looking very well. How have you been?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Very well thankyou, Mrs. Thursday!” the ‘lads’ chorused back politely.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I like the moustache, Morse,” she teased. “Very handsome!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morse ducked his head and squirmed shyly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re looking very well yourself, Mrs. T.” flirted Jim lightheartedly. He was very fond of the Inspector’s wife and knew she would respond in good spirit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, Jim, that’s very kind,” she chuckled. “And look at you! Lovely dark beard, it really suits you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’ve been having a bit of a challenge, me and Morse. You know, see who could grow the best beard during lockdown. What do you think?” Jim continued. “Who wins?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morse and Strange, bristling with facial hair, sat up straight and awaited her verdict. Both were extremely pleased with their lockdown beards and being highly competitive, each wanted to score a win over the other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh!” laughed Win, “you’ve a bit of a way to catch up yet.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Slightly miffed at the notion that anyone could possibly have beaten their magnificent facial efforts, Jim and Morse felt themselves a little insulted at this dismissal.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That‘ll do!” they could hear Thursday say in the background. “We’ve work to be getting on with.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just a moment, Mrs. Thursday, what about the beards?” called Morse. “We’ve excelled ourselves, we reckon, but there has to be a winner.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was a bit of jostling as Mrs. Thursday blew them a hasty departing kiss and relinquished her seat to her husband.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jim and Morse instantly realised why they still had a way to go.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck!” they both announced as they recoiled from their desktops.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Thursday leaned in close to the camera, peering at their images. Their whole screens were suddenly taken up with hair, luxurious, long hair cascading all over Thursday’s head and face. His hair had grown so long it was in his eyes and he’d made no attempt to slick it back with Brycreem as he used to do. His beard was enormous, jutting out in all directions like a riot of grey thunderclouds. Thursday’s top lip sported a moustache that could have beaten Morse’s effort weeks ago and now had begun to droop down at the corners it was getting so long. He looked like a biblical prophet might have done, only much better groomed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Call that a moustache?” Thursday scoffed, twirling the corner of his own monster.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, Sir, that’s quite a beard you’ve got there,” stammered Strange in awe. “Beats the two of us hands down.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, lad,” agreed Thursday. “Been years since I had a full set. Thought I’d see how it looked now I’m old and grey,” he  mused, stroking the width of his face with a broad hand thoughtfully.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stunned with the magnificent show before them, Jim and Morse were lost for words. Their competition to grow a beard now seemed like adolescent bragging compared to the lush, mature thicket of hair in front of them. Thursday’s beard was simply unbeatable, a wonder to behold.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mrs. Thursday had clearly not yet left the room. They could see her hand reach out and tenderly run through Fred’s thick locks. Thursday turned his face up to his wife as she scratched him lovingly under his chin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Besides, Win likes it, and if she’s happy, I’m happy,” added Thursday turning back and winking at the camera.</p>
<p>He tried to call the meeting to order but he was distracted by Win continuing to fondle him. The two young Sergeants watching him were aghast as they saw him leaning further and further out of shot and into Win’s embrace. </p>
<p>Eventually Thursday made up an obvious excuse to deal with his amorous wife.</p>
<p>“Sorry, lads,” he said, “camera’s on the blink again.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He reached out to tap his own screen and suddenly Thursday’s camera was switched off. Jim and Morse stared at one another in surprise. Although they could not see him, they could still hear a little of what was going on at Thursday’s end. There was a lot of giggling from Mrs. Thursday and some low, deep chuckling from her husband.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fred! Fred! That’s enough now!” Win could be heard admonishing him half heartedly between squeals of laughter.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“C’m’ere!” Fred was laughing, his voice muffled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fred, love! Your computer’s still on.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was another muttered curse from Thursday and some rustling before he was cut off completely.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After a moment’s shocked silence, Strange asked “Same time tomorrow then, matey?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Morse nodded and abruptly ended the call.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Strange, encouraged by his governor’s success, made a mental note to keep his beard to try to impress the ladies. Morse, admitting defeat, decided to shave off his moustache the moment the call was over.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>During the Corona virus lockdown of 2020, Morse and Strange compete to grow the best beard.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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